Viewing entries tagged
The Long Way
I have
spells
of stars
in spite
of people.
I cannot
say exactly.
The moon sails
the nights
steadily.
It is
almost
a dream
of myself
drenched.
From page 112 of The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier, translated by William Rodarmor (Sheridan House, 1995).
I am
a trick
among
the stars.
There is
a murmur
that says,
moon.
I shine
and hear
the light.
I know
clouds
stretch
and
feel
pity.
I would
have
altered
time
to feel
the
moonlight
cold
in the
distance.
From page 140 of The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier, translated by William Rodarmor (Sheridan House, 1995).
Where
the mouth
of wind stiff
towards
sound, can
reach you
to a flash
of force.
The rip
without
touching,
put stars
in your
skull and
everything
was water.
From page 146-147 of The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier, translated by William Rodarmor (Sheridan House, 1995).
You
come back
a wave
and held
my hands
in the sea.
I knew
to say,
wind
and burst
around
the shrouds
to hold
your gaze
still.
From page 172-173 of The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier, translated by William Rodarmor (Sheridan House, 1995).
With her
the water
of all the stars
struggle between
me and the earth.
For us
amid the seagulls
exhausting and continuing
to the end of water.
The shape
that turns
what I protected
most strongly
and tries
to kill
with one
wave.
From page 170-171 of The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier, translated by William Rodarmor (Sheridan House, 1995).
Everything
is my
memory,
after the
smell of
wind from
the sea.
It is
trouble
to forget
that I would
give myself
just enough
to stay.
From page 21 of The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier, translated by William Rodarmor (Sheridan House, 1995).
Where we
were noise,
covered in salt
untouched as ice
I am all you have
to breathe and eat.
From page 113 of The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier, translated by William Rodarmor (Sheridan House, 1995)
She kept
just a thought
of danger during
the overlapping
of eyes, skin and
the handle of steel.
From page 123 of The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier, translated by William Rodarmor (Sheridan House, 1995).
The
descent
of
day
is
a
drop
of
sky
and
here
we
are,
a
strange
dream
of
place
that
knows
we
are
light
and
wonder.
From page 150 of The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier, translated by William Rodarmor (Sheridan House, 1995).
Strange was
the quiet
during the
night’s need
to stand
over my
chest, as
a wave
pressed
to the
water
and not
split.
From page 51 of The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier, translated by William Rodarmor (Sheridan House, 1995).
I must be
the oldest
under water,
with wings
I am not
in a hurry
to break.
These birds
are my hand
that I could
dare to dive,
leaving the calm
hold of salt.
From page 75 of The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier, translated by William Rodarmor (Sheridan House, 1995).
I have left sleep,
a sight, a diamond
beneath my ear.
I replace stars with eyes.
I hesitate where my hand
is muted as the moon.
From page 153 of The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier, translated by William Rodarmor (Sheridan House, 1995).
Grit would
have heard
wind held
and running.
It too
has forgotten
now that my eyes
felt broken.
The wind
takes on the night
without watch
for sleep.
There is only
the wind
turning to shock.
From page 52 of The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier, translated by William Rodarmor (Sheridan House, 1995).
I am instinct
and appetite
asking myself
if I need it all,
to reassure my life.
What could I see
when thinking as a necessary
rest, that I do not know.
From page 65 of The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier, translated by William Rodarmor (Sheridan House, 1995).
Seas begin
to gulp
and pour,
as I shake
the sky
for wind
in spite
of taking
the world
too close.
From page 65 of The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier, translated by William Rodarmor (Sheridan House, 1995).
Simmering
the
hearts
of
another
secret,
it
asked
me
to dinner.
Unable
to move
I believe
ghosts
are in
the breeze,
great
with calm,
all but blue
remains.
From page 95 of The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier, translated by William Rodarmor (Sheridan House, 1995).
Between mirror
and miracle,
my brain
is a disturbing
glow where the
worried city
kept me from
listening to the
whole night sing.
From page 88 of The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier, translated by William Rodarmor (Sheridan House, 1995).
Forgetting,
I
fill
my
pocket
with
ink.
When
removed
it is
rain.
I
suspect
I'm
the
sea.
From page 120 of The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier, translated by William Rodarmor (Sheridan House, 1995).
I swell through
the quiet
where birds
watch over
silhouettes
rummaging
through what
needs of movement
speak and
answer morning.
My chest all
warmth and serious.
It mattered.
From page 175 of The Long Way by Bernard Moitessier, translated by William Rodarmor (Sheridan House, 1995).
